


Give Me Just Enough

by OhMyFreddy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterglow quickly dissolves into angst, Angsty Schmoop, Bottom Dean, Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, Optimistic Ending, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stanford Era, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:31:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyFreddy/pseuds/OhMyFreddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One rainy night, Sam leaves his family to pursue a college education. Dean finds that this situation doesn’t suit him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Just Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Jaymes Young’s “Moondust”. Please feel free to tell me anything you want me to hear!

He had decided to go immediately after the front door slammed in the house in Colorado, but it took Dean three weeks to get to Stanford. It wouldn’t have taken so long, but he had spent much of that time absolutely fucking drunk, and that, combined with angry, unchained detours and wanderings, made for several delays.  

His head was clear for the moment. That car was the thing he loved second most in the whole world, and she deserved better than to end up wrapped around a light pole. The sunset in Palo Alto was pretty from where he’d parked her in a deck on campus, and Dean enjoyed the way the colors wavered through the corners of the bottle of Gentleman Jack he had brought with him and saved for this last hurdle. It was just after 9:15 PM on a Thursday when he finally took the elevator down to the street and walked the two blocks to the dorm.

He’d done his research: knew he’d picked a time where Sam would be done with classes for the day, and wouldn’t be starting them again until 3:00 the next afternoon. And, he knew he had the right room when he paused to steady himself against the doorframe, for he heard a peal of Sam’s laughter over the murmur of conversation and the gentle thump of a stereo. Dean’s knees nearly buckled, but he hauled himself back upright and rapped on the door.

A kid, a head shorter than Sam, with thin-framed glasses, answered. Dean remembered his manners. “Could I speak to Sam, please?” he slurred.

The kid stared, but widened the door. And there was Sam, cross-legged on a bed, stretching his neck curiously to see who was visiting. Dean watched his eyebrows snap down out of his hairline, watched his adam’s apple dip tautly inside his throat. Dean licked his lips, and Sam’s fists clenched into the knees of his jeans. Dean completely missed the presence of someone else in the room until another head appeared from around the corner, peering to see what Sam was reacting to.

Shit, Dean’s pretty drunk. Missed an entire other person in this tiny room. That third kid was Latino and gorgeous, too. Mmm. Dean wanted that one far, far away from his little brother.  Sam stayed frozen on the bed, and Dean hoped he wasn’t saying any of this shit out loud.

Sam finally cleared his throat and tore his eyes off of Dean. “Uh, Álvaro, can you and Tyler give me a bit? I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Tyler, wide-eyed, slipped past Dean into the hallway. Álvaro slid off the bed and slipped into a pair of boots, but didn’t bend to tie them. “¿ _Estarás bien_?” he muttered to Sam as he closed and collected a couple of textbooks. Sam nodded immediately, and Dean’s eyes narrowed. Fuck, Dean should have known this would happen. Fuckin’ California. Goddamn crawling with sexy Spanish-speaking guys, the kind who’d stand really close to you in bars, watch your mouth wrap around the lip of a beer bottle, and roll those r’s into your ear when they lasciviously whisper “ _Rascado_ ”.

Huh. Wait, maybe that only happened to Dean in Uvalde two years ago. No, no. No, he distinctly remembers a dark-eyed witness to a grisly, ghostly murder in Santa Fe fisting his hand through the front of Sam’s shirt and pulling _gringo alto_ in for a kiss when John’s back was turned. On the drive out of town, Dean sat angled in the front seat of the Impala in a way that twisted his back into knots, but in any other position, he kept catching glimpses of Sam’s grinning reflection. This was worse, though. Álvaro was probably some engineering or chemistry genius. Somebody who was as smart as Sam.

Álvaro followed Tyler into the hallway, giving Dean a once-over that definitely leaned more towards hostile than appreciative. Dean swiveled his head, keeping Álvaro in focus as best as he could, and tried to match the threat. “Goodnight, fellas,” Dean grumbled at their retreating backs. He stepped into the room, and fumbled a moment to lock the door once he’d closed it.

Sam hadn’t moved, and Dean continued to look his fill. God, he looked perfect. Hair still over-long and clean, eyes bright, with no redness or deep purple beneath them. His hands and face weren’t sliced up or bruised. There wasn’t graveyard dirt under his nails. Only a sheen of sweat that was appearing over his skin betrayed that he wasn’t perfectly relaxed and well.  He hadn’t looked this healthy since grade school.

Dean didn’t care.

Sam wasn’t safe, wasn’t _right_ , unless his tired eyes and bloodied, dirty skin were where Dean could put his hands on them.

Sam finally broke the silence. “Is he with you?”

“No. Tennessee. Which one’s your roommate?”

“Tyler,” said Sam tersely, like he knew why Dean was asking. “What are you doing here?”

Dean shifted his weight, but kept his back pressed against the door. “Well, you left. So I followed you.”

Sam looked away from him. He uncrossed his legs and planted his socked feet on the floor. “You drunk? 

“Yeah. Figured if you were going to say the same kind of things you said in Colorado, I really wanted to already be blitzed this time.”

Sam stood, and he looked angry now. Fire in his eyes, and Dean felt it like real heat on his skin.

“Do I _need_ to say all that over again?” Sam spat. 

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. It wouldn’t matter what Sam said. Dean was here to take him back. Sam could save his breath for things like moaning Dean’s name, and for huffing wetly against Dean’s neck. Why was he still all the way over here?

Dean pushed off of the door and stepped carefully in front of his brother. Sam’s chest was rising and falling too fast, as if his lungs were trying to keep pace with a racing heart. His hands were clenched into fists, like he thought he might have to fight.

“Please come here,” Dean whispered, and Sam swallowed hard and surged into his arms. Dean tucked his chin over Sam’s shoulder, and Sam did the same to him, arms clinging tightly under his arms and over his ribs. Dean kept him in a fierce grip, holding him down until he felt Sam’s pulse steady and his breaths deepen. Dean relaxed his hold, and pulled back his head to press his forehead into Sam’s temple.  He directed a whiskey-laced exhale at Sam’s mouth, and Sam followed it like a magnet, licking into Dean’s mouth and pressing his lips onto Dean’s like he was trying to erase every trace of the alcohol from their pink swell.

Dean slid his hands up the front of Sam’s t-shirt, and Sam flinched when Dean’s cold fingers swept his fevered skin. Dean bit down on Sam’s lower lip, then they released each other to allow Dean to jerk Sam’s shirt off his head. Sam pushed their father’s jacket off of Dean’s shoulders and into the floor. Dean shucked free of his over shirt, then became tangled in his t-shirt. As soon as he had lifted it, Sam bent to mouth at one of his nipples, and Dean found himself blinded by the clothing twisted around his head, and over balanced from jerking into his brother’s touch. Sam caught him by the waist before he fell, and reached up with his free hand to deftly peel the shirt off of Dean, teeth never leaving his chest.

God, Dean was so thrilled to be handled by Sam. Every move Sam ever made was full of grace and intent. Powerful body and talented mouth. The only thing Dean loved more than looking at Sam was being touched by Sam. Sam pinched Dean’s earlobe between his teeth, and Dean stroked his hands down Sam’s back and rubbed his erection into Sam’s hips.

Sam pulled Dean even closer, growling and seeking his own friction against Dean’s jeans. He turned them and guided Dean onto his back on Sam’s bed. Dean’s head spun a little at his sudden horizontal orientation. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Sam crawling on top of him. His vision cleared, and he was able to watch as Sam pressed his bare chest flush onto Dean’s hips, sending a jolt of pleasurable pressure through Dean’s cock, then he slid slowly up Dean’s stomach until their faces were realigned.

Sam kissed Dean like a starving man, like not one bite in three weeks had taken the edge off his hunger, and what he’d needed was Dean, Dean, Dean.

“Dean,” he breathed, when Dean snaked his hands into Sam’s jeans and beneath the waistband of his boxers. Dean’s hands had warmed with their continuous contact with Sam’s skin, and he kneaded them into Sam’s ass. Dean moaned as he pulled Sam down, angling so that his brother’s hard dick pressed against his own _just there_. He had to get Sam out of these fuckin’ useless pants.

Sam was already wriggling out of his grasp and making work of his belt and fly. Was Dean speaking out loud _this_ time? No. No, Sam was just a marvel. Knew what Dean needed from him, and fuck, knew how to deliver it.

Sam left the bed, but it was only to kick free of his socks, underwear, and jeans, and then he was kneeling forward again to pry Dean’s boots from his feet. He plucked away each sock, and slowly stripped Dean until only his necklace was left to cover him.  Sam crept back over Dean in tanned, naked glory.

“Turn over.”

Dean propped himself up on his elbows and butted his nose tenderly against Sam’s, smirking.  “What are you going to do to me, Sam?”

“What I’ve been imagining doing to you every night, every shower, every _hour_ , since I got here.”

“Sammy, fuck,” Dean mumbled into Sam’s mouth. Sam kissed him back for only a moment, then took him by the hips and flipped him onto his stomach.  Dean groaned. His buzz was slowly cooling, but he was fine with his liquid courage dwindling; this reunion was playing out swimmingly. Sam was arranging his hips and bent knees where he wanted them, kneeling between them and petting over the backs of his thighs. Sam’s wet tongue traced over Dean’s hole at the same time his hot hand took hold of Dean’s aching hard-on.

“Nngh, goddamn,” Dean moaned. He reached forward to snatch Sam’s pillow and press it against his mouth. Sam pulled languidly up and down Dean’s dick, lapping his tongue into him in time with his strokes. Every so often, Sam would tilt his head down farther, and take one of Dean’s balls into his mouth, sucking gently before letting it pop free. Each time, he pulled Dean’s cock down between his legs, towards himself, and licked a slow stripe from the head, up the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, back over his balls and perineum, and returned to delve into his hole with even more fervor than before.

Shit, but Sam knew how to work Dean over. He was trembling under Sam’s mouth, leaving a wet spot where his teeth were gripping Sam’s pillow, and leaving a wet spot where his cock was leaking onto Sam’s bedspread. But, he’d driven all the way from fuckin’ Chattanooga.

“Sam, please,” he begged into the pillow.

Sam lifted his head and rested his chin on the swell of Dean’s ass. “Is this not doing it for you, man?”

Dean could hear the grin in Sam’s voice. “Sam,” Dean groaned emphatically, “ _more_.”

Sam understood his entreaty. “Dean. Dean, no. I’m not- you’re drunk, dude.”

Dean twisted his head so that Sam could hear him clearly. “Ooh, Sam, you’re such a gentleman. What? You think I’m gonna wake in the morning and realize I drove twenty-four hundred fuckin’ miles thinking about your naked body and thick dick and only, by accident, did that journey end with me in your bed?”

Dean turned farther so that he could make eye contact with his brother. Sam’s eyebrows were drawn and apprehensive. Dean took a breath and made sure he had him in focus.

“Sam. I’ve been without you for nearly a fuckin’ month. Been jerkin’ off in silent, empty motel rooms with my fingers up my ass pretending they were yours. I came here to find you, and if you don’t get that big cock of yours inside me in five minutes, I swear to god-“ Dean watched while his words disintegrated Sam’s resolve like paper on fire. They still had eyes locked when Sam slipped the first finger inside Dean.

“Yes,” Dean hissed, pressing back onto Sam’s hand. Sam bit down on the left cheek of Dean’s ass, then sucked indulgently on the mark.

“Can you reach in that drawer? I’ve got lube.”

Dean stretched and slid the drawer of Sam’s bedside table open and pawed inside. He tucked the little bottle into his palm and in his fingertips held aloft a condom he’d also found. “Do you want this, too?” he asked.

Sam pressed a kiss onto Dean’s ass. He swept his lips back and forth across Dean’s skin as he shook his head. “There’s only been you, Dean.”

Dean bared his teeth against the hot, possessive coil those words ignited in his stomach, and let the little package fall back into the drawer. He rocked backwards, pushing into Sam’s touch. “Me, too, baby.”

Sam drizzled a dollop of the liquid directly into Dean, poured a bit more onto his fingers, and slid two of them inside. Dean groaned, and followed it with a rumbling laugh. “You sure you don’t like me drunk, Sammy? Feelin’ pretty relaxed here.”

“I should take my time, anyway, just to piss you off,” Sam retorted, but he immediately belayed his threat by adding a third finger. Dean scrubbed his face into Sam’s pillow, inhaling sharply and pulling in that fragrant scent of Sam’s hair. Sam gently stretched him, roaming his free hand to massage irregularly at the muscles of Dean’s back.

Mmm, that was so good. What was Sam trying to accomplish here? That whiskey, that slow rubbing inside and out- geez, a guy could end up falling as-

“Shit!” Dean shouted into the pillow when Sam decided in the same instant to press against Dean’s prostate, and to thrust his tongue inside Dean’s hole alongside his fingers. He slid both fingers and tongue in slow circles until Dean’s efforts to stay still had him pounding a fist against the mattress. Sam slipped his fingers free, and pressed deeper with his tongue. Dean twisted his neck to take a peek when he heard Sam’s sticky fingers smoothing over his cock. Sam’s flushed dick was a delicious sight, shining with lube and gripped in his big fist. Dean tore his eyes away to look again at Sam’s face.

Eyes closed, lashes fanned demurely over his cheeks in contrast with the lewd parting of the over-reddened lips he’d rimmed Dean with. Sam’s tongue snaked out to slide across his lower lip, and then he pulled the lip into his mouth to bite down on its edge. His eyes opened and he caught Dean looking. Sam smirked, and Dean could see a smartass remark forming inside his little brother’s mouth.

Dean confessed, “I love watching you jerk your cock.”

Sam’s rhythm faltered, and it was Dean’s turn to smirk.

“Watch this,” Sam muttered, and pulled Dean once again onto his back. Sam stretched forward and snatched his abused pillow from under Dean’s head, then hauled Dean’s calves over his shoulders and tucked the pillow beneath Dean’s hips. Without further ceremony, he guided the head of his cock to Dean’s entrance and pressed in.

Dean did watch. Sam was obviously enthralled with the way his dick was steadily disappearing into Dean. Dean watched the muscles of Sam’s stomach flex with the effort of pacing himself. Sam’s chest rose and fell gently, and Sam’s long fingers tightened carefully where they held onto Dean’s thighs.  Under Sam’s right hand was a shining smear of lube that Dean couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by. As soon as he bottomed out, Sam snapped his eyes up to Dean’s. Dean was panting, but had a happy grin waiting for him.

Sam leaned forward, bending Dean double, and fixed him with a predatory glare that made Dean’s stomach do a little somersault. Dean took one deep breath, and Sam slid back, then slammed back in. “ _Give it_ to me,” Dean ordered, and Sam thrust even deeper. Dean slapped his hand around the back of Sam’s neck, just to have something to hold onto while Sam pounded into him.

Sam bent down further and captured Dean’s bottom lip in his mouth. Dean kissed him back, but the new angle had Sam hammering his prostate, and that was really just _incredible_ , and Dean wasn’t sure if he was doing any good with his mouth. “Fucking shit,” he hissed when Sam pulled up for air, and then Sam sped up. Dean was close, trembling under Sam’s body.

“Dean,” Sam warned, “I’m not gonna last.”

“Good,” Dean growled, and he cried out when Sam put his slick fist around his erection. Sam pulled at Dean’s cock and held off his orgasm until the sight of Dean tensing and sputtering white streams of come across his stomach had Sam overcome by his own release.

Sam collapsed onto Dean, and Dean took him by the back of the skull and drug their mouths together. These kisses were the first unhurried ones they’d shared since Dean’s arrival. “I missed you,” Sam said, “So glad you’re here.”

Dean moved his arms to wrap around Sam’s back and held him close, rolling his tongue between Sam’s parted lips. “Well, I needed that,” Dean hummed. He muttered much more quietly, “Needed you.”

Sam saved him from any further spilling-of-guts by carefully sliding free of Dean’s arms and out of the clutch his warm insides. “Let me bring you a washcloth,” Sam said as he padded toward the tiny bathroom in the room’s corner.

“Just leave one out for me,” Dean called after him. “Gotta piss somethin’ awful, anyway.”

Dean heard Sam laugh, and the faucet run, then Sam was back by the bed and stepping into his jeans. “You can have a shower if you want, too. I’m gonna go see if Álvaro will mind Tyler staying with him tonight.”

“Man, you don’t have to do that. You want me to get us a hotel room? Take you somewhere fancy. Are you suggesting that I smell, by the way?”

Sam leaned down over Dean and pressed his nose against his throat. He licked a stripe through the sweat there. “Did you hear me complaining?” He bit Dean, and Dean shoved him off. Sam located and shook out his t-shirt. He continued, “Let’s just stay here and we can spend your money on a fancy breakfast, okay? Also, Tyler’s girlfriend’s a local who still lives with her overprotective parents. Dude fuckin’ owes me.”

 ~*~

Dean showered and enjoyed using a generous dollop of Sam’s aromatic shampoo. He found a clean, folded towel in the top of Sam’s closet, and beneath it, a fresh pillowcase, when he fitted gratefully onto Sam’s dampened pillow. Sam returned, and stripped once more. He crawled into his bed, pressing his back against the wall to make as much room for Dean as possible. He patted the space patiently through Dean’s protests, (“This is not gonna work. This thing is tiny. You’re gonna put your elbows into my kidneys all night, and your dick’s gonna be all up in my- okay, fine.”) and then arranged Dean onto his back so that Sam could pillow his head on Dean’s chest. Dean twisted to switch off the lamp, then buried his nose into Sam’s hair.

Sam fumbled in the dim until his fingers found Dean’s amulet. He gripped a fist around it, and drifted to sleep with a final sigh. Dean petted his forearm and stared for another hour at the darkened ceiling. He couldn’t take another night without this. Why the fuck would he bother hunting, risking life and limb against the evil in the world, if, at the end of the day, he didn’t even have this?

Three weeks of misery, and he still didn’t know what he was going to say to entice Sam away from this new life. Dean had been blindsided and broken-hearted by Sam’s departure. One evening of John’s screaming and Sam’s glass-breaking and the trashing of their bedroom as Sam tore the closet apart to chaotically pack his bags, and Dean’s life was empty. It was the worst kind of empty. Like Dean was a jar whose contents had been spilled. There remained liquid, substance, clinging to the edges inside of him, but the contents weren’t even enough to be useful. His job, his car, his dad, his purpose, dripped insignificantly to pool amongst the shreds of the world that he had built around, over, inside of Sam.

Dean pressed his lips again and again onto Sam’s forehead. He focused on deliberately breathing deeply, until sleep took him.

~*~

Dean was the first to wake under a stripe of sunlight that the mini blinds didn’t quite catch. He slid free from under the covers and Sam’s heavy arm, and Sam mumbled something that sounded like “that sailboat”, and shifted back to sleep, on his back, into Dean’s spot as he vacated it. Dean swiped Sam’s bottle of lube from the bedside table and carried it with him into the bathroom. He pissed, and felt that with an empty bladder also finally came a clear head. He didn’t know which toothbrush was Sam’s, and, truly, Sam probably would prefer to keep his toothbrush for himself. He found some mouthwash and swished before wiping down his face with some cold water.

Dean popped the cap on the bottle. He coated two fingers in the lube, braced himself against the vanity, and slid one finger inside himself. He still felt decently stretched from Sam’s ministrations the night before, but still took the time slick himself well enough to take three fingers. His dick was at full attention from the stimulation, but he ignored it and quietly washed the excess lube from his fingers. He splashed a bit more cold water onto his face, however, just for good measure.

Dean approached Sam’s sleeping form and carefully pulled free the bottom of the top sheet from where it was tucked under the mattress. Once he had the entire sheet loose, he ducked beneath it, crawling up between Sam’s legs. Sam shifted when Dean pressed his hands onto his hips, framing his morning wood, but didn’t speak. Dean wet his lips, then wrapped them around Sam’s cock. He started at a gentle pace, and in only a few strokes, he knew Sam had woken when he thrust up sharply, and uttered a gasp that Dean barely caught through the muffle of the bedclothes.

Dean briefly sucked harder, then pulled off, leaving Sam stiff, and kissed a slow trail up Sam’s stomach, his chest, and all the way up to the top of the sheet, where Sam was holding it aloft, peering underneath to watch Dean’s ascent. Dean honed in on the right side of Sam’s throat, nibbling at the skin there, and dipping his hips down to graze Sam’s erection with his own.

“Mmm,” Sam hummed, stretching underneath Dean’s attention. “I thought I’d dreamed you.”

Do it now. It’s time to seal the fuckin’ deal, Dean.

“Come away with me, Sam,” he said, breathily, grinding harder, with more precision, against Sam’s cock.

Sam moaned and flung his arms around Dean’s back. “Dean,” he exhaled, and that offered Dean no answer.

“I’ll take you hunting in all sorts of pretty places. Yosemite, Gatlinburg, Big Bear, Savannah, Cape Cod, Denali. We could go back to New York.”

Sam was digging his fingers into Dean’s spine, pulling his legs up to wrap them around the backs of Dean’s thighs. Dean didn’t look at his face. Kept his head against Sam’s jaw and continued to whisper seductively at the bottom Sam’s chin.

“I’d wake you up like this every morning.”

“Dean, I-“ Sam began, and Dean cut him off by surging upwards to put his lips to Sam’s. Dean was gonna sell this. When he got Sam’s answer, it needed to be the right one.

Sam returned his kiss with enthusiasm, smiling a little when he licked at the flavor of his mouthwash on Dean’s tongue. Dean pulled back and met Sam’s eyes. He slid his hand between their bodies, inching towards their dicks, and said, “I’ll make your life a thousand times better than it was before.”

Dean put his fist around Sam’s cock and glided his hand through the saliva that remained from where he’d sucked at him earlier. “I’ll give you anything you want,” he suggested conversationally. He released Sam, picked up his own hips, and crept up so that Sam’s cock was behind him, pressed hotly against the curve of Dean’s ass. “One of those tiny Camaros I’ve seen you staring at,” he continued over Sam’s panting. “Lakers tickets. A puppy. Anything, Sam.” Dean reached behind himself and guided the head of Sam’s dick so that he could feel the wetness of his opening.

“Fuck!” Sam grasped Dean’s hips with lustful desperation. “Don’t need that shit, Dean. Just want you.”

Fuck, yes. That was what Dean liked to hear. He pushed the tip of Sam’s cock inside, and slammed to the hilt. Sam grit out a string of more swear words, and hauled himself upwards into a sitting position, grappling at any part of Dean he could reach. He ended up with his teeth in Dean’s shoulder, whimpering and hissing as Dean intentionally clenched around his length in lieu of thrusting. Dean gave him a moment to catch his breath, then shoved him back onto the mattress.

Dean followed him down, bracing himself with one hand on Sam’s pillow. Dean began a slow slide up and down Sam’s girth. He was rolling his hips, and teasing Sam’s nipple, and tracing the tip of his tongue across his earlobe. Sam seemed to be having trouble breathing.

Dean growled into his ear, “Just get in the car with me. I won’t take you back to him, I’ll just take you with me.”

Sam found his voice, even if it was a bit strangled. “This’s pretty coercive of you, Dean. _Ahh!_ ” Dean thrust down fast, hard, to demonstrate how little that mattered to him. Sam got another lungful of air and said, ”What do you expect me to say while you’ve got me like this?”

Dean reached up and gathered Sam’s wrists in his left hand. He reared up, pulling a groan out of Sam at the change in angle. Dean pulled Sam’s wrists down, and held them in place against Sam’s abdomen. Dean took his own cock in his right hand, and focused on smearing his index finger over the leaking head. Then, he reached behind himself, gathered Sam’s balls into his fist and held them out of his way. When he breached Sam’s hole with his slick finger, Sam howled, his pleasure echoing off the walls. Dean knew he ought to muffle him; other people did live in this building. But, damn, he was all out of hands.

Dean sought Sam’s prostate with his crooked finger, and Sam shouted out Dean’s success. Dean pressed up with his hand and down with his hips, pistoning back and forth until Sam was roaring like an engine. Sam twisted his wrists out of his brother’s grasp and flung his arms back to scramble for purchase in the rails of his headboard. Dean used his empty hand to brace himself and ride Sam even harder. “Fuck, Dean!” Sam barked, squirming and gasping, bucking down against Dean’s finger’s unerring focus on that white hot spot, and up into the tight, wet heat of Dean’s body. Sam kept his eyes fixed on Dean.

Dean saw the truth of his next words in his little brother’s lecherous, terrified, worshipful expression: “You belong to me, Sam.”

Sam shuddered through a scream as he came.  He released his headboard, skating his fingers over Dean’s ribs instead. Dean wasted no time in moving himself so that Sam’s spurting cock was angled against his own prostate, and wrapped his fist around his dick. Left-handed, he stroked himself with little finesse, but he was throbbing and eager, and in seconds, was spilling over Sam’s stomach with an obscene moan.

They panted and beamed, both wincing with final jolts of pleasure when Dean eased out and off of Sam. Sam shifted back against the wall where he’d slept to make room for Dean to lie beside him again. He tucked his shoulder back under Dean’s arm, and lay his head back onto Dean’s chest. Dean smiled, hazily reminiscing upon occasions where he’d held Sam exactly like this. Eighteen years, and he never grew tired of it.

Sam was slowly tensing inside Dean’s embrace. Dean made a move to shift them, so that he could see Sam’s face, but Sam said, softly, “’S true. I’m yours. But _you_ belong to him.”

Sam didn’t have to clarify who “he” was. They had only ever been one man who came between them.

Dean’s heart felt like it had suddenly turned to gravel in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, and heaved a bereft, rattling sigh that Sam rode up, then down, on his ribs.

Dean didn’t know how to defend himself. He had already lost one parent. What could he say? Was he Sam’s, more than he was John’s? All the way on the other side of the country, with a weight off his soul that only having Sam in his arms had eased, with his naked legs entwined with his little brother’s, Dean had to answer: yes.

But just that he belonged to Sam _more_ couldn’t erase the allegiance he had to his father. Dean’s worth was in what he provided to the people he loved. His dad had never failed to impress upon Dean that he needed him. Dean’s worth was in his family. His family was two people.

“We could…” Dean scrambled for an answer, but, fuck, he’d been looking for a solution to this problem for nearly a decade. “Keep Dad at arm’s length, okay?”

Sam picked himself up so that he could look at Dean’s face. Dean opened his eyes, and, goddamn it, he really hoped that his eyes weren’t watery the way Sam’s were.

“It’s not that simple,” Sam said.

Dean’s heart thumped back into full throttle.

It is. It fucking is that simple. Dean flung the bedclothes off of where they remained tangled around his feet. Sam lurched back so that Dean could stumble off of the bed. His clothes, though piled haphazardly, were all together at the foot of Sam’s bed.  He yanked his boxers back around his waist, then frantically tried to shake loose one of his tangled pant legs. He got one foot inside the garment before he flung it to the floor and strode back to Sam. He took Sam’s stricken face between his hands. Shit, Sam really looked like he was going to cry. Fuck.

“Sammy, please,” Dean said, and Sam grasped onto his wrist hard enough to hurt. Sam shook his head.

Dean jerked his arm out of Sam’s hand and resumed his furious dressing. He realized he was pulling his t-shirt on inside-out, but didn’t care. When he could see again, after he arranged the damn thing over his head, Sam was sitting upright, but none of those goddamn tears had fallen yet. Good.

Dean marched to Sam’s closet. Last night, during his search for a towel, he’d spied Sam’s duffle tucked carefully beneath a pair of shoe boxes. He had it out and pried open at his feet before he felt Sam wrap his naked arms around him from behind. Dean took several calming breaths, let Sam hold him tight and still, and leaned back into the heat of his torso. Sam pressed his forehead tenderly into the back of Dean’s head, nuzzling his hair apologetically. Sam squeezed Dean until his heart beat slowed, then let go, bending around to pluck a pair of blue boxers from a shelf inside the closet. He padded away to pull them over his legs.

Dean blinked hard and sucked in air through his nostrils, ready to fight any fuckin’ tears that tried to make a break for it. He swiped at his nose, then snatched the entire contents off Sam’s shelf and stuffed them into the duffle.

Sam was on him, twisting him by the arm to get him away from the bag.

Dean’s frustration reached a crescendo, and he flailed, trying to free his own arms and restrain Sam’s. He bent Sam’s wrist backwards, but lost his hold when Sam tried to use his feet to topple him. Sam managed to get Dean’s elbow in a lock, but Dean spun out of it and sent Sam momentarily reeling. Snarling, he finally pinned Sam against the bathroom’s doorframe. He bared his teeth up at his towering little brother, then pushed his mouth onto Sam’s.

Sam kissed him roughly, still straining valiantly against Dean’s weight. Dean made a grab for Sam’s ear with his teeth, purring, “Baby, just get in the car.”

Sam thrashed and jerked his face away from Dean. “I. Cannot. Go with you.”

Dean snatched his hands away from where they held Sam against the wall, moving them instead to wrap him in another desperate hug. Sam buried his nose against Dean’s neck.

“This is all fucked up, Sam. You _are mine_.” Why did his stupid voice have to crack like that? If there was one thing Dean believed with a conviction, this was it. This was fucking it.

“If you take me, I’ll run again, Dean. Please don’t do that.”

God, no. No no no. The running away had hurt so fucking much. A traitorous tear finally fell onto the back of Sam’s neck, and it apparently did not go unnoticed.

“I’ll call him, Dean. I’ll have him come get you.”

Dean felt it like a slap, and he thrust away from Sam accordingly. His temper erupted. “Fuck that,” Dean spat furiously. “Jesus fuck. I’m already going to have to hide from him that I came out here to get you.” Anger and frustration and heartbreak were surging through him. It was making his veins sizzle and freeze all at once. God, this was not what he came here for.  “But that’s just one more fucking thing to add to the pile of shit I’m _constantly_ having to fucking hide from him.”

Dean suspected that Sam chose to ignore Dean’s stinging implication that he, Dean, was now the solitary sentinel against their father’s discovery of their illicit, scandalous relationship. He was left to edit the details of his and Sam’s past by himself, left to carefully manicure the belongings Sam hadn’t carried with him, ensuring John didn’t sort through them, looking for an answer to his youngest son’s behavior, and instead finding evidence of the way his boys profoundly, iniquitously treasured one another.

“This can work, Dean.” Sam pleaded. “We can see each other. I can keep myself safe. It will work.”

Dean took another steadying breath. “It is _not_ enough. I cannot do this without you. Why-why would I do this without you?”

“I need to be here! I can’t keep doing the job at all, Dean, whether you are there or not. Do you understand? I had to get away from him and his bloodthirsty revenge, and try to find something for me to do that gave something back to _me_.”

Dean raised his voice, even louder than Sam’s. “What you got away from was me!”

“Don’t fucking say that! I didn’t want to _leave you_ , Dean. I wanted to _be here_. Do _you_ want to be here? You want to stay here in California? Get us a little shitty apartment off campus? You gonna stay put and find _employment_ and let go of Dad’s and all of your own fucking vendettas?”

Dean put his head in his hands.

Sam continued, “God, that sounds fucking incredible to me, Dean.” He took Dean by the arms and pulled his hands away gently. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you to do it?”

Dean knew why. He whirled away from Sam, and aimed a violent kick at the shoeboxes he had upended out of Sam’s closet.

Sam didn’t ask because Dean would have said ‘no’. Sam didn’t ask because Dean was committed to hunting. He believed in it, that it was a righteous endeavor. It made him feel like he was making a difference in the world.

Dean looked back at his brother’s eyes. Three whole weeks and that was it. That was the motherfucking answer all along.

Sam was gonna say ‘no’. Sam worked his ass off to be here, was committed to attend a really fantastic school. Sam wanted to make a difference in his life. That was as righteous an endeavor as any.

Dean crumbled into a sitting position on Sam’s bed. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as hard as he could stand.

Sam let him have a moment of quiet, then said, “I love you more than anything in this world, and I-“ he exhaled wearily. “I _bitterly_ resented every other part of it.”

Dean blindly stretched an arm out towards him, and Sam ducked under it a second later.  They pressed against each other in silence. The feeling that Sam had betrayed him for this pipe dream was slipping away. He felt that maybe he and Sam were meeting in the middle. But the middle felt like a bleak, expansive chasm that yawned between them. And there was no ‘meeting’. Just a shared loneliness stretched across miles and miles of highway.

~*~

Dean let Sam into the Impala and pressed him up against the passenger door. He kissed him aggressively, until Sam started to inch his fingers up inside Dean’s shirt. Dean desperately wanted to blow him one more time. Pull him down onto his back across the front seat and jerk his jeans down to his knees. Swallow him down and see if having Sam’s cock down his wet throat would help dissipate the lump there that he couldn’t seem to choke down. If he could get Sam to buck up into his waiting mouth, get him to spill hot, soothing come over his tongue, maybe it would ease the scratch left by the words he’d shouted this morning.

But the parking deck was host to dozens of innocent commuters, and it just wasn’t a good time to be pulling out his brother’s dick. Dean gently slowed their kisses to a simmer, then drug himself behind the steering wheel. He eyed Sam as he turned the engine over, watched the rumble vibrate through him like a caress. He draped his arm over the back of the seat when he craned his neck to reverse out of the space, and left his fingers tangled in the shoulder of Sam’s shirt sleeve.  

Dean drove Sam back to the front of his dorm, then parked and stretched to dig inside a crevice underneath the dashboard. “I think we missed breakfast, but I know you’ll be needing a few more meals.”

“Dean, no,” Sam protested, but Dean was forcing the bills into Sam’s hand. “I don’t need- this is, like, more than a thousand dollars, Christ, Dean, please keep this.”

“Sam, you’re a college kid, and this town’s expensive. Please? Put my mind at ease.”

“I’m not spending this.”

“Okay, then,” Dean concluded stubbornly. “We can use it next I come down.”

Sam surrendered, shoving the cash into his jeans and shoving his mouth back over Dean’s. “Please call me,” he said between kisses, “I don’t care if it’s 4:00 in the morning,” he clutched the front of Dean’s shirt, “or if I’m in the middle of class, I want to talk.”

Dean entertained the thought of pulling the Impala out of park and flooring it. Just gun it and take Sam east, north, anywhere that he could keep Sam for himself. He managed a smile. “Don’t you answer your damn phone if you’re in the middle of a final, okay, dumbass? Defeats the whole purpose.”

Sam pulled him in for one more hard kiss. “Please be careful.”

Dean trailed his fingers down Sam’s arm as Sam pulled away and opened the passenger door. “Bye, Sam.”

Sam looked back twice on his way back inside, and Dean stared until the front door slipped closed behind him. He turned the Impala towards Tennessee.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was partly inspired by this incredible fan video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWAZU8Tfy0Q


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